Fish tank
His lover's room is high above the sea Exposed to wind and every noisy storm That soaks her window with congealing spray; To him she says that only bed is warm — From where, beyond her hand and dreaming face, He sees the fish tank in the corner: Gaudy, purposive, the gentle tropic fish Turn slowly in their heated water.
Warm behind glass their garish colours gleam And deliquesce: fronds braid a green obscurity And killer fish pass silently between: Electric lights illuminate their prey.
They lie together and silently he watches: She drowses warm against his conscious flesh, Brown hair unravelled on the pillow catches Dim flickerings from the tank. His eyes adore the fish.
She leans to him and whispers, "Do you love Me?" His eyes feed on their pure unhindered Poise — too slow, too sure for words they move, Close on each meal. She does not catch his answer.
Dick Davis
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